Narcissus fell in love with his own reflection. Unable to tear himself from his own image, he wasted away. For the critics who anointed him the patron saint of the selfie generation, the takeaway here was always straightforward: our culture’s hyper-fixation on our own visages is a sign of misplaced priorities and moral ruin. But there’s a far subtler revelation hidden at the heart of this story—an overlooked lesson about the nature of images and how our bodies can be transformed by them. A strange thing happened to Narcissus’ face when it was reflected by the water; it became something else, estranged to its own bearer through no fault of his own, unrecognizable to even himself.
